


Those Files

by Louhime



Category: Naruto
Genre: Dead People, Gen, Graphic Description, Grief/Mourning, I'm Sorry, Killing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 19:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3908173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louhime/pseuds/Louhime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In every village there will be a series of files that everyone knows about. The last file of every member of the academy. No matter the age or position. </p><p>In each file there are the same pages, but each tells a different story, a different death. It is the duty of the Kage to see that no one goes unremembered. </p><p>Tsunade had hoped she would never have to read these particular ones. Not ever. But the day has come. And she will do her duty. Even if it breaks her heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Files

**Author's Note:**

> Right this is a little depressing. A lot of people die. It isn't a happy place to be. I was rather pissed off when I started this a while back and have only now thought to edit it now and finally post it. I know that its not happy therefore will not really be read by many if at all cause no one wants to see the characters they like die. 
> 
> Too bad, cause if you're here then it's a little deathy ahead. 
> 
> I would love it if anyone who reads this would like to give feedback by way of comment or kudos. I don't mind if you don't cause it is sad so if you read to the end, I'll be happy.
> 
> So as always, 
> 
> Thanks and much love,
> 
> Lou.

In the end it was always going to happen. They were shinobi and they knew that one day, that next mission might be the last mission they ever took. It was a risk that was there every day of their lives, from the moment they entered the academy as children to the moment before the kunai hit, an ever present threat but not entirely real until it happened.

                                                                           

Relationships were never meant to be deep for them. Life was all too fleeting and the missions too many, all it took was _one_ mistake. Because in the end it was never a choice who died. But they ignored the danger, sharpened their skills and learnt new jutsu to protect their precious people.

 

Kakashi had his beloved academy sensei Iruka; the last Uchiha, Sasuke had the shining warmth of Naruto, Gaara of the sand had the exuberant excitable Rock Lee and lazy genius Shikamaru had his perfectionist prodigy Neji.  

 

The mission was a success; information gathered and sent back to Konoha, all of the party accounted for. They never saw the rogue ninja, didn’t see them attacking until the first kunai hit the floor. All it took was one mistake, one miscalculation. And they made it. Each and everyone of them. 

 

After that it was a flurry of attacks, parry’s, twirls and dodges.

 

The world around them reduced to shining metal and the smell of blood, the adrenalin racing through their veins and the sharp focus of battle. For all their skill and jutsu, the enemy were just as good.  Their final great battle lasted barely twenty minutes.

 

The great Kakashi, the man of a thousand jutsu was killed by a tiny slice to the artery in his neck, the skin unprotected because he was craning his neck in search of his lover’s position. A rookie mistake. He had less than a minute, gone just as his lovers face became the last thing he saw. Iruka’s name never reached his lips.

 

The blood in his body rushing with the heat of battle made it swift and painless. Iruka saw the slide of the kunai across Kakashi’s neck and assumed it missed. But as his uniform was doused in scarlet, he knew he was wrong.

 

Iruka moved faster than he ever had done before. He slapped his hand over Kakashi’s wound in a vain attempt to stem the bleeding, his face screaming horror and his eyes dead with shock. His mind couldn’t process the impossible thought of Kakashi’s death.

 

The katana driven through his back, into his lung, coming to a stop before entering Kakashi’s still warm corpse, was barely felt over the screaming in his head. In what was left of his heart.

 

It took Iruka’s body five minutes to drown, but his life had ended the moment Kakashi’s heart had stopped beating.

 

The demon vessel was fighting off three attackers, when a strangled cry from his lover snapped his attention from his enemies to where Sasuke knelt. His calf had been pinned to the ground with a demon wind shuriken, two of the four blades had buried themselves in the earth through the meat and bone.

 

The demon inside Naruto was released in his fury and his fear and all three of his attackers and Sasuke’s were torn apart. He sped to his wounded partner and crouched above him in his feral rage, protecting what was his from harm. Two claw tipped hands wrapped possessively around the man, burning eyes locked on to spinning red and black, fear love and pain communicated in an instant.

 

The Uchiha ripped the shuriken from his body stifling a shriek of pain between clenched teeth. He curved one palm around his lover’s cheek, in the heat of battle gentle affection softened the angles of his face, Sasuke’s special eyes locked with his companions. Noticing rapid movement Sasuke’s gaze flickered to the empty space where his attackers had been and saw far too familiar hand signals. A fire jutsu stolen from the Uchiha’s and powered by unnatural winds, was the last things they saw as their world erupted into white flame and searing agony. Both warriors consumed before they could scream.

 

Gaara, crouched in ever swirling protective sand, faced off against a brute of a man easily seven foot and rivalling a mountain in width. His sand provided attacks and defence against the heavy blows of the enemy. A strangled cry of his name shot into his head and he and his sand immediately sought out his lover, the eddies curled outwards in search of its masters heart to protect it even at the cost of its masters life.

 

Lee’s body hung limply from the hand of what looked like man-mountains twin, Lee’s precious hands were shattered beyond repair. Bone and blood alike splattered the ground beneath him. The frantic search of the sand stopped dead, the eddies crumbling to the ground. Lee’s legs, so powerful and graceful, were broken into uncountable fractures, into angles that no human’s body should ever be able to contort into.

 

The sight of his lover’s body, usually full of energy and life, hanging empty and broken stirred the demonic rage that lived inside him. But the sight of those empty _dead_ eyes that had previously shone with warmth broke his heart. As Lee was thrown to the floor with casual distain, limbs snapping together horribly like a rag doll, Gaara span aiming to tear apart all those who laid a hand on his lover, his body rippled unnaturally ready to change and wreak havoc in his demonic form. Chakra charged wire loops slipped around his wrists and throat. His ever present sand didn’t even have a chance to react; the shock of Lee’s death had dropped his guard and his mourning teal eyes never left his partners body, even as his head was being separated from his neck.

 

Neji, engaged in hand-to-hand, exchanging rapid blows and blocks neatly dispatched his opponent with a chakra strike to the heart and readied himself for another fight. His unique eyes seeing everything, colours and shapes in sickening focus, he swept his eyes over the entwined corpses of his teachers, over his team mate broken and staring sightlessly towards his headless lover, over the still smoking remains of the most competitive couple he had ever known, and felt his heart lance sharp pain through his body. The loss of his friends and comrades not fully registering.

 

Every corpse that he saw his battered heart beat that little bit faster, aching that bit more, until panic set in his mind and frantically swept his gaze over the battle field to find his lover. Shikamaru was moving jerkily towards him, uniform splattered with gore and dirt decorating his arms and face.

 

Neji felt his heart leap in his chest and a relieved smile touched his lips, until he noticed the puppet strings looped around Shikamaru’s limbs wound impossibly tight on his skin. The lines of chakra burning brightly, mockingly. Neji felt his heart clench painfully when he clocked that his lover had no heartbeat, a gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be. He held out a hand, ridiculously hoping that he could somehow change the sight burned into his spiralling mind.

Shock had frozen his body and grief his mind, so when the kunai held in his lover’s cold hand, plunged into his own heart he was utterly powerless to stop it. Both bodies hit the ground simultaneously, a graceless mess of limbs and blood. Neji cradled the corpses head to his chest and slowly passed from the living to the dead.

 

 

The remaining rogue ninja stood and surveyed the battlefield, only four of the attacking thirteen. They took stock of the carnage and desolation they had left. Two of them stood cradling injuries, they had become weakened by the onslaught that had taken the others. The remaining healthy soldiers simply moved in unison to their comrades. And slit their throats.

 

The mission complete and the baggage which would slow their journey back dealt with, they melted into the trees and disappeared with a gust of wind and a rustle of leaves, as if they had not just created the scene of devastation behind them.

 

 

Tsunade, sat regal and proud behind her desk. She politely thanked the ANBU member who brought the files to her office and dismissed her.

 

She stared down at the seemingly innocent pieces of paper, eight files each full of identical forms, the same thicknesses each telling a different story. The contents of those crisp pages had torn her world to pieces. The unlined softness of her face hid a mind older than her body which had known this grief before and would do so again.

 

Even knowing what the files contained she would read through each and every page. The last moments of several lives were in her hands. In neat indifferent copperplate. Recounted with clinical detachment.

 

The vibrant lives of her fellow soldiers had been ended in a meaningless struggle.  Her hands rested on the crisp papers, not wanting to see but having to, to honour the men that fell, to honour who they were, why they fought and how they died, to give it some semblance of meaning. To show that they would never be forgotten.

 

Tsunade flicked the first file’s cover open and started to read, with every page and picture her stoic face faded away and horror crept in to her eyes, her lips pressed together into a white line with every word that burned into her mind her shoulders slumped and her posture curled up a little more. Every file broke more of her grieving heart and tears made their way down her pristine face, when the last page had been turned she laid her head on her forearms and broke into deep heart wrenching sobs that shook her entire frame with silent agony.

 

It was not the wounds which killed them that hurt her so much it was the fact that they died such meaningless deaths. The wounds they suffered were practically god sends in the shinobi world, mostly quick and painless even if apparently gory and drawn out. The wounds were thorough and efficient, every blow placed in sure knowledge of the damage a human body could take, never having to suffer more than necessary. Even gory and vicious, they were as efficient as the enemy could make it.

 

In reality they could have suffered so much more, their deaths drawn out and made more agonising than the mind could fully feel, but the fact that she would never hear Naruto call her “Granny Tsunade” again or see Sasuke’s quiet adoration of the blond menace glimmer in his eyes, hurt her.

 

That she would never have a livid Iruka storming around her office ranting about Kakashi’s quirks and habits or witness the pure reverence Kakashi had for the academy teacher, which was so clearly shown in his voice, hurt her.

 

That she would never hear Lee’s youthful exclamations about how wonderful Gaara was or see the devious smirk on the sand vessels face when Lee blushed so bright when someone remarked on the bright, conspicuous bruises on his neck especially when there was still a visible bite mark in them, hurt her.

 

That she would never walk side by side with the youngest Nara and have a satisfying non-conversation-conversation, or have the Hyuuga stop by her office to report nothing in particular just to see his lover during the day, hurt her.

 

Warm strong arms lifted her from her chair and carried her over to the sofa, arranged her like a child in his lap rocking her gently whilst his strong deep voice made soothing nonsense noises. Tsunade looked up from her hands to see Jiraiya staring down at her in concern, his own eyes shining in grief and loss.

 

“Hime?” So many questions laced that one pet name, ones the man may never ask but still thought.

 

“How can I tell them, their families that they died for nothing that they are now rotting flesh and blood for no reason?”  She demanded brokenly.

 

Jiraiya softly replied “They didn’t die for nothing, Hime, I looked through those files and I saw the pictures. They died trying to protect their loved ones, their precious people. I don’t think that’s nothing do you?” 

 

Tsunade gazed sightlessly at her lap as she thought of the enigma that was Jiraiya, the man was an unrepentant pervert but he held so much wisdom that it was hard to see the idiot brat he was and still could be.

 

“They shouldn’t have died that way, they...” She protested

 

“They knew the risks, Tsunade.”

 

“But not like th...”

 

“It’s true but they were, are, shinobi, they expected to one day fall with their comrades. They all knew that one day it could be their time. No matter how much we loved them.” He replied firmly.

 

She felt anger curl in her gut, she knew the statements he was making were perfectly true but she didn’t want to understand because it hurt, Tsunade leapt from his lap and spun towards him, fire in her eyes, needing to rage at something.

 

“AND THAT MAKES IT OKAY DOES IT? THEY WERE SHINOBI! IT DOESN’T MATTER THAT THEY DIED IN A PATHETIC WORTHLESS FIGHT? THAT THEY DIED TOGETHER MAKES IT OKAY?”

 

“NO!” Jiraiya got to his feet “NO! It doesn’t make it okay but, this is the reality of our world Tsunade! You and I both know that. All of us know the risks.” His voice steady and firm, he knew that this would kill her inside; Naruto’s passing more than the others. He felt the bone deep ache that the loss of those lives brought himself and he knew that loss was something Tsunade never dealt with well.

 

He tried again “They are shinobi; they knew the risks of their missions, even the harmless ones, of being with the ones they love. It was a choice they willingly made to travel and to fight beside their precious people. We couldn’t have predicted this, any of it. But isn’t it better they died together than to lose half of their heart?”

 

“OH! So now it’s their fault, _huh_ for being in love?! It’s their fault for wanting to live like everyone else does?! So, you say kill them all it’s a kinder fate?!”  She spat.

 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it! It’s their duty to put their lives on the line for Konoha, despite who they love and who they are, that’s what being shinobi...” He countered.

 

Her eyes burned.

 

“THEY’RE NOT JUST SHINOBI! THEY’RE CHILDREN! They are all just children.” her voice wavered and cracked on those few words.

 

Jiraiya felt his heart break for her a little more, he knew why now. A sad wistful smile tugged at his lips.

 

“To us, Hime, they’re all children. Ninja don’t get to our age and not think of them all as children,” Tsunade tried to interrupt but he continued “so naïve and innocent, even if they think they aren’t. Even though they’ve seen some terrifying things. That they’ll never see some of the things that we’ve seen is a hope I carry with me all the time. They will always be children to us Tsunade, now and always, a sad by product of seeing them born and grown. To see who they were and who they became, watching them fall in love and fall in battle…… The curse of the old Tsunade. That is our burden to bear.” Tears formed in his eyes and trailed silently down his cheeks, for the children that fell in battle every time they were sent on missions, for the people that he saw as his own children, in spirit if not in blood.

 

Tsunade, tears of anger and sadness smeared across her cheeks, saw the longing in Jiraiya’s eyes for the children he had, for the ones he now mourned. The children she mourned too.

 

Their burden was to remember them as alive as they ever were not to remember them for their deaths. Stepping forward she wrapped firm arms around his body and pulled him to her, in an embrace which told him she felt the same. Endless moments later but still somehow not long enough they parted. Locking eyes with her oldest companion, she knew that the broken pieces of her heart were matching his.

 

“How am I going to tell the children of the academy that Iruka-sensei isn’t coming back? The children adore him and that bloody idiot Kakashi.  How do I tell the Nara’s and Hyuuga’s their children were slaughtered? That their boys will never come home? The others that their friends and teachers aren’t here anymore? How on earth can I give honour to deaths that were honourless?” She let all the thoughts out in a rapid tumble, her throat feeling like it was trying to stop the words from tumbling out but being slowly crushed under their weight. She rested her head against that broad chest and took faith that not everyone she loved had died that day. That there was a beating heart underneath that skin, not a hole, not bone shards. That her rock in this storm was as unfaltering as the stone upon which the Kages were carved.

 

“You shall tell them that their precious people died with their honour intact. They died protecting their loved ones from enemies, that they were not alone. That their teachers or friends or children will never be forgotten, as we shall never forget. Their names will be carved into stone and they will be laid to rest with every honour they have rightly earnt.” He slipped a finger under her chin and smiled at her.

 

"Then, we will find the people responsible. Hunt them down to whatever foul corner of the world they came from. Drag them back here and take all the time we need to show them the reason we are Sannin, why it is a very bad idea to prey on what is ours, how does that sound?” By the time he finished his smile showed far too many teeth.

 

She grinned back, just as vicious.

 

 “It sounds perfect, my love.” 


End file.
